


The End of the World

by Manuscriptor



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Editing? I barely know her, F/M, Hazel gets drunk and talks about the end of the world, How Do I Tag, Queer platonic relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuscriptor/pseuds/Manuscriptor
Summary: Agnes comes home from a long day at work and finds a self-proclaimed demon sitting on her couch, eating her ice cream and crying his eyes outor, more queer platonic relationships of my favorite characters from TUA





	The End of the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deferred_momentum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deferred_momentum/gifts).



Agnes sighed as she parked her car in her garage and just sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, staring blankly at the concrete wall in front of her. She was still wearing her hat and apron from work as well as the sweat and exhaustion too. Working with donuts was all good and well and nice, but every job was still a job.

Agnes pushed open the door to her car and climbed out, grabbing the box of donuts on her passenger seat that had been leftover at the end of her shift. That, along with her paycheck, were the barely-there reasons that kept her coming back.

Sometimes, she let herself dream about leaving. Just a couple minutes at a time, though, never wanting to put too much time or energy into something what she wasn’t even sure if she would be able to do. Besides, quitting your job took courage, as Agnes never imagined herself as a person with particularly impressive amounts of courage.

Agnes pushed open the door to her house, hanging her lanyard of keys on the hook next to the foyer and stepping into the cozy interior. She toed off her work shoes and pushed on her house slippers, sighing as she was finally able to relax.

She shuffled into the kitchen, placing the donuts on the island and finally pulling off her apron. She tossed it next to the donuts and set about her normal after-work routine. She filled a kettle of water to put on the stove later and took her usual mug down from cupboard, plopping in a tea bag along with a spoonful of honey. She took one of the old donuts out of the cardboard box and set it on a plate and then was about to move further into the house when a noise caught her attention.

The house was normally quiet.

No, Agnes lived alone, and the house was _always_ quiet.

Agnes froze where she stood, holding her breath and praying to God that she was hearing things. But then there was the noise again, a mix of a breath and a huff. Agnes yanked open the kitchen drawers as quietly as she could, rattling silverware and knives until she found what she was looking for.

 She grabbed the rolling pin she stored there and hefted it to gauge its weight. It wasn’t much, but it was something between her and whatever was in the house.

She wondered if she should call out but decided not to.

Maintain the surprise.

Or something.

Agnes didn’t know what she was doing.

She tiptoed out of the kitchen, pausing at each corner to listen and look.

The noise came again, and if Agnes had to guess, she would say it was coming from the living room. Strange, because she kept most valuables in her bedroom. If someone had broken in, they were in the completely wrong place. Which meant that she was dealing with a stupid thief.

If worse came to worse, Agnes could fight off a stupid thief.

She reached the last corner to the living room and paused, taking a steadying breath. She hefted the rolling pin, adjusting her grip and running out of ways to stall. Going for the element of surprise, Agnes stepped around the corner with the rolling pin raised, ready for anything she might see.

Almost anything.

Except for what she actually saw.

The . . . man—because that’s what it was—was sitting curled up on her couch. The lights were off, with only the lamp to illuminate the area. It cast his face in odd shadows but it was obvious that he had been crying and recently. To add insult to injury, Ginger was curled up in his lap, lapping at the stray drops of ice cream that he was dropping, because he was eating a tub of ice cream that Agnes specifically remembered buying and putting in her freezer for an off day.

For _herself_.

Portly with a neatly trimmed beard, the man wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, but that wasn’t what Agnes was paying attention to. Besides the ice cream, he had obviously also been sampling a bottle of champagne from her cabinets, as the empty bottle sat by his feet, next to a blue mask made to look like a bear. More and more peculiar.

The man was also crying, clearly caught up in the pity party he had made for himself and not noticing Agnes at all. And Ginger, her traitorous orange tomcat, had joined in on that pity party, something he had never done for Agnes before.

She tightened her grip on the rolling pin, threw back her shoulders, and cleared her throat.

The man looked up, more forlorn than regretful. He took another bit of ice cream, sniffing up his runny nose and using the heel of his palm to wipe away some of his tears. He didn’t even say anything, just took another bite of ice cream and let Ginger lick a few stray drops off the back of his hand.

“Excuse me,” Agnes said, trying not to let her voice shake too much. “I . . . . What are you doing here?”

The man looked up again and blinked at her as if just realizing that he could be seen. He set the tub of ice cream aside and scrubbed his hands on his shirt. He rubbed snot and tears on the backs on his hands and then seemed to give up on making himself look presentable.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I . . . sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. Let me get out of your way. Let me just—” He attempted to push Ginger off his lap, but the tom clung on, laying back his ears and most definitely not moving even going so far as to let out a warning growl.  

The man sighed and gave up, slumping back into his seat.

And then he broke down into fresh tears all over again.

Agnes felt a little sorry for him actually. She lowered the rolling pin down to her side but didn’t set it down just yet.

“I . . . I really am sorry,” the man said through his tears. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Really. I just . . . I really didn’t . . . fuck, this is a mess.”

“Who are you?” Agnes asked, still not sure if she was ready to give into the pity that was growing in her heart for the poor man.

“I’m . . . I honestly don’t know what to say,” the man said. He set aside the tub of ice cream and leaned down, hooking the bottle of champagne off the floor and tipping it into his mouth. It was completely empty though, and he looked more disappointed than anything. The man’s shoulders started shaking as he collapsed into a fresh round of sobs.

Drunk and sad.

Well, Agnes could deal with drunk and sad.

“How about this,” she offered. “I have another bottle of that. If . . . If we sit down over a few glasses, will you tell me what’s going on here?”

The man sniffled pathetically but nodded.

Ginger started purring.

Agnes reluctantly retreated back into the kitchen and quickly found the second bottle. She didn’t feel comfortable serving the man glassware so two mugs would have to do. She looked regretfully at her tea mug that she wouldn’t be drinking. But she definitely needed something a little stronger to help her deal with whatever was going on.

She returned to the living room where the man had taken to wiping his tears and snot on one of her throw pillows. She ignored that and poured them both a mug, handing one to him before settling on the arm chair opposite of the couch.

“So,” she prompted when the man gulped down half of what was in his mug and didn’t start speaking right away. “You are?”

“Hazel,” the man said, sniffing extra hard and finally pulling himself together enough to form words. “My name is Hazel.”

“And who are you? What are you?” Agnes said, still not ready to completely buy into this tearful facade. “And what are you doing in my living room.”

Hazel—if that really was his name—tipped back the rest of what was in his mug and helped himself to another mugful. He sipped this one a bit slower, unconsciously stroking Ginger who was all too happy with the attention.

“I’m . . . fuck, I’m a demon,” Hazel said, having to stop all over when he started crying even hard. “Oh fuck. I’m sorry. I’m a demon. I . . . . I didn’t want to do any of it!”

Agnes jumped to her feet and snatched up her rolling pin again without thinking, holding it between them. She crossed herself quickly, though she had zero experience with demons and didn’t even know if that would help. Most of her knowledge came from whatever dramas she watched on the TV in her spare time, which wasn’t much. The only real advantage she had was that he was clearly drunk and falling apart.

Hazel sensed her panic and quickly shook his head. “No, no! Not like that. I didn’t mean . . . I _feel_ like a demon. Is it possible to feel like a demon?”

“I . . . I don't know,” Agnes said honestly. Just how much had this man been drinking?

“You don't have to worry about that,” Hazel said, gesturing at her rolling pin. “I'm not gonna do anything. I've done enough already.”

Reluctantly, Agnes eased herself back down into the chair and picked her mug back up. She didn't put down her rolling pin, instead tucking it next to her into the seat. She waited for Hazel to pull himself together enough to continue his strange story. If any of it were even true.

“I'm not. . . . a demon,” Hazel said slowly, as if he was having difficulty with the words. “I just . . . I just feel like shit.”

“And that's why you're on my couch, drinking and eating ice cream?” Agnes asked. She critically eyed Ginger up and down. “And cuddling with my cat?”

“Oh,” Hazel said, looking down at the cat that was still in his lap. He smiled more to himself, giving the orange tom a scratch behind the ears. “Yeah, he's pretty nice.”

Agnes chewed her lip, not wanting to push the man too fast but not wanting to spend the entire day here. She still had work tomorrow and still needed a good amount of rest. Although, she wasn't quite sure if she would be able to fall asleep too easily after a home invasion. She would need to change the locks.

“Look, I chose a house randomly,” Hazel said, gesturing randomly at the room around him. “I didn't mean to scare you or anything and I honestly mean no. . . harm. I just. . . . I felt horrible and needed some place to go. The world is ending at it's all my fault.”

Oh?

Now that was something new.

The world ending? Agnes hadn’t heard anything like that before. She took a sip from her mug and thought about it for a while, watching as Hazel stroked Ginger, sniffling up the last of his tears. The silence grew between them for several moments, and Agnes continued to think about the end of the world and what that actually meant.

“Is the world really ending?” she finally asked.

Hazel sighed and slumped back against the couch. “Probably,” he said with a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of time travelling and doubling back and space-time continuums, fuck all if I know. Everything’s broken now and I can only think that that means the world is ending.”

Agnes relaxed a bit at that. So perhaps Hazel didn’t know what he was talking about.

“So, it might not be ending,” she said. “It sounds like you don’t even know right now.”

Hazel blinked and scratched Ginger behind the ears, silent for a very long time. Agnes could practically see the way the gears in his head turned as he thought through what she had just suggested. Finally he nodded and then shrugged again.

Agnes was very aware that outside the windows, the sun was just beginning to rise and that she should be going to sleep very soon if she wasn’t going to be completely exhausted by her next shift. Still, she couldn’t leave Hazel on her couch. And she certainly couldn’t kick the poor man-demon out of her house. That would just be rude at this point.

She took another sip from her mug and thought about things.

“Do you know _when_ the world will end?” she asked, thinking about her next shift and the shift that would come after that and the one after that. She thought about all the donuts she would be making and how many coffees she would pour. She thought about everything she had done so far and everything that she hadn’t.

Hazel just shrugged again. “Who knows? Someday. Soon? I guess it depends on how much I’ve screwed up.”

Agnes looked down at the remaining champagne in her mug and then at the ice cream which was slowly melting on her couch. If she didn’t move it, Ginger would eventually figure out that the treat was within reach and gorge himself if not stopped. In one swallow, she tipped the rest of her drink into her mouth and swallowed quickly, setting the mug down on the coffee table.

“Stay here,” she said, figuring that Hazel was too exhausted to disobey. “I’m going to change out of my work uniform. If the world is going to end, I’m going to be in my pajamas.”

Hazel barely even acknowledged what she said besides a small nod, so Agnes figured it was okay and stood, heading back into her bedroom. She took a moment just to debate with herself if she was even doing something sane or if she was going to be murdered tonight.

But she was hardly worth murdering, right? An old lady with a dead-end job, barely anything in the bank, and a home just recently paid off. If Hazel was going to kill her, than he had chosen very poorly.

Agnes quickly changed out of her pink dress and apron, tossing both of them on the bed. She put on a t-shirt, an old thing all the way back from her college years, the cotton worn and comfortable, and sweatpants. Her usual relaxation outfit. She checked herself in the mirror and then felt embarrassed for checking herself in the mirror. She grabbed a few extra blankets from the hall closet and returned to the living room.

Hazel was exactly where she had left him, staring blankly down at Ginger as if lost in his thoughts.

“Here,” Agnes said, offering one of the blankets to him.

He looked very confused.

“What is this?” he asked, taking the blanket and letting it fall halfway open.

“A blanket,” Agnes said. “You may as well be comfortable if the world is going to end, right?”

Hazel thought it over, shrugged, and then unfolded it completely. He draped it over his lap, earning an annoyed look from Ginger who finally deemed that rude enough to leave. He stretched and stood and moved to the opposite end of the couch, washing his face and continuing to look at Hazel with barely disguised irritation.

“You’ve already had enough of this,” Agnes said, scooping up both of the bottles of champagne and the melted, pathetic tub of ruined ice cream. She nudged the bear mask aside so that it was out of the way and wouldn’t be tripped on. “You get comfortable.”

She didn’t wait to see if he would obey her. With the trash gathered, she carried it back to the kitchen in an effort to clean up a bit. The ice cream went back in the freezer in hopes that it would be edible again in a couple hours. The half-full champagne bottle went back in the fridge and the completely empty one went into the sink to be recycled later. She washed her hands, dried them, and then decided it was time to check up on Hazel to make sure he hadn’t dissolved into tears again.

He hadn’t, thankfully. He had wrapped the blanket mostly around himself at this point, staring off into nothing. His expression was unreadable. Ginger was further into his bath now, still perched on the end of the couch.

“Good?” she asked.

Hazel nodded.

“Good,” Agnes said.

She grabbed the second blanket she had brought and flapped it open. She took a moment to hesitate, staring at the empty spot on the couch next to Hazel. It didn’t look dangerous exactly, and Hazel didn’t look dangerous either. He just looked small and sad. With a defeated sigh and too much pity for a man she barely knew, Agnes curled herself up on the couch next the Hazel. She hesitated a beat and then leaned next to him.

He stiffened up all too obviously, head shooting up as she made contact. Agnes didn’t make a big deal about it. Instead, she just tucked her legs underneath her and pressed their shoulders together a bit harder. She didn’t push anything past that and after several moments, Hazel relaxed. Not completely, but he relaxed more than before.

“The apocalypse,” he mumbled, sleepily, drunkenly.

“Not for a while,” Agnes said. “Get some sleep. The world won’t end for a while, I think.”

Hazel didn’t protest that, and a moment later, his breathing had evened out and he was most likely asleep. Agnes couldn’t do it that quickly, even if she had worked mostly the entire night. She sat curled next to him, listening to his deep easy breathing and feeling his side rise and fall.

Ginger finished his bath on the end of the couch and snootily walked across Agnes’s legs to curl up on top of them, half on Hazel and half on herself. He yawned and then was asleep just as easily as Hazel had. Agnes now the only one who couldn’t seem to do just that.

Instead, she stared at the wall in the dark, watching the shadows from the lamp and trying to find shapes and characters. She couldn’t and was left to think about something else. She thought about the apocalypse that Hazel had mentioned and the world ending.

She thought about falling asleep on the couch and then waking up to go to work. She thought about doing it again tomorrow and then again the day after that. She thought about the paycheck she would receive every two weeks and the cardboard box of half-stale donuts she would bring home every night and eat.

She thought about if it was all worth it.

Ginger had started purring in their laps now, and she petted him idly.

She thought about everything she hadn’t done and what would happen if she didn’t show up to work tomorrow or the next day or the day after that or the day after that either. They would probably find someone new, someone who was half her age and could work without stopping every half hour with a sore back. Someone better.

Agnes sighed and leaned her head against Hazel’s shoulder. Now that he was asleep he wouldn’t care, and that position was more comfortable than leaning her head against the back of the couch. She didn’t want to wake up with a sore neck.

But.

But if she didn’t show up to work then there wasn’t a point to avoid a sore neck.

Agnes continued to lean against Hazel though. She closed her eyes, still able to see the light of the lamp through her eyelids. It was dark enough and she was tired from work and the stress of finding a self-proclaimed _demon_ in her living room.

Ginger continued purring and that was probably what lulled her off to sleep.

Or maybe it was Hazel’s thumping heartbeat or his steady breathing bordering almost on snores but never quite.

Maybe it was the ticking of the hall clock.

Maybe it was just because she was so tired.

Maybe it was a million things, but Agnes fell asleep curled up on the couch even though Hazel had said he was demon and even though he said the world was ending and even though he didn’t make much sense the entire time he was talking.

Agnes fell asleep, and when she woke up, Hazel was still there. But that didn’t seem like a bad thing in the moment. Agnes checked the clock the best she could without moving and winced when she had obviously slept passed when she was supposed to be at work since she hadn’t set an alarm. If she checked her cell phone, she would probably have a dozen or so missed calls from her angry employer, demanding to know where she was.

But the world was ending.

Agnes smiled to herself as that was the funniest thing suddenly. It was a convenient answer to everything, so even though the clock continued to tick away and her paycheck shrunk more and more with each passing minute, Agnes stayed where she was, curled up on the couch and laughed about the end of the world.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey, I'm on Tumblr @manuscript-or


End file.
